this time I’m torn, please wake me if I lose that face
search in these eyes: there’s still fire in the darkness
She hadn't been looking up to the sky. She probably never looked up. So she hadn't seen the dragon in the sky, scanning the island for familiar faces from his wide, arial view. She hadn't seen his magnificent wings spread nor their shadow passing over.
Her eyes were forward, though. Not down.
But never up.
She was in a numb tranquility. Just walking alone, though she knew Reilly would prefer to be at her side. He was a good friend. She would lose him someday. He deserved better anyway. They all deserved so much better than the hollow, young woman she was. She used to have so much fire, so much spunk. She could cut anyone down with a few short words and quickly measure them out to the kind of person they were.
Maybe she still could. But it was clear she wasn't the same after Kerberos.
Her dirty brown figure passed like a ghost through the Island that seemed so happy despite all the worrying things going on. As always, she didn't belong. She would never belong anywhere, not even within her own family she helped create. They were kind and pitying, and tried to include her regardless. That was perhaps the only kind of attention she would garner; pity, sympathy, or hate. She was not a nice person.
Her path was eventually interrupted with a loud Over here! She turned a milk chocolate face. Then the caramel body followed, but she remained still. She was delusional now, drawing up hallucinations of Sabrael. It wasn't the first time she'd done that. He hadn't been around, but she'd seen him in many places. She still hadn't figured out why he'd smelled of rich fire smoke and leather, of heat and hunger, but it didn't make her stop wishing she could smell it again even for a short conversation.
She chose to follow the illusion. She had nothing else to do and she was used to aching. Even as the two men came into view, she wasn't sure it was real. And she couldn't seem to make herself care.
"Tiphon," she said blandly, studying his flawless, porcelain face for a long moment before shifting her gaze to the ghost of Sabrael. He wasn't really here, though. He was never really here anymore, especially since they'd left Ischia for safety. He might never find them. He wouldn't know to swim across the ocean to this busy island, buzzing with healers and an angel coming and going as they healed everyone they crossed paths with.
"Sabrael," she said anyway to this daydream. It barely came out above a whisper, so unused to saying his name aloud and almost afraid to. He seemed a little tense and that was strange to her. It was curious that she could remember him so vividly. She'd thought she'd begun forgetting the details, as is so typical with time.
Her brown gaze slid back to Tiphon, generally more familiar with him since hallucinations didn't really count. "Have you remembered the Ischian Prince?"
